Chapter 8

TOBIAS

The walk to McDonalds is 10 minutes, max. We continue to talk about the game, and she really does know what she is talking about.

Eventually, in a moment of courage, I ask, "How do you know so much about football?"

She hesitates and slows her pace. I can tell she's thinking, hard. There must be a story, but she may not be ready to tell it. Some stories are meant to stay on the shelf, never to be read. I don't want her to be uncomfortable, or regret bringing me. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to." I tell her.

"It's fine, umm, my brother, he's a big sports guy. He and my dad both have state rings. Let's just say it was the only thing talked about." She pauses and cringes. She's been speaking through gritted teeth. "I don't really talk about them."

"Fair enough. So what is this little tradition? And how did it start?"

"Aren't you full of questions, you know, curiosity killed the cat."

I laugh, because I am never like this. I usually don't care, I found out a long time ago to keep things short and sweet and move on. Zeke is the one of the only persons who have stuck around a while, and one that I have a good friendship with. I've developed a few somewhat close friendships, well close enough. Most people try to use me, so I don't get too attached to anyone. But I am randomly going to a McDonalds at 10:30 at night.

"Kill me for wanting to know where I was going. How do I know you aren't leading me to a trap?" I joke.

She looks down and smiles as her nose scrounges. It is such a tiny gesture I almost miss it... but I don't. It's so quirky, I love it.

"When I was really little, I was taken to so many games, they got a little boring after a while. So my mom promised me one day we would go out for ice cream sundaes afterwards." She smile, and it is big and genuine. I love her smile, and I cherish the moment because she isn't one to smile a lot. It is nice to see her momentarily happy; it makes me feel a little warm inside.

It is different from the coldness I tend to feel.

She continues, "So, we went, but we had to be somewhere really quick. That's where the McDonalds comes from. We both settled on simple vanilla cones. It formed into a tradition, now. After games, I go to the nearest McDonalds and get a simple vanilla ice cream cone. A lot of things change over the years, especially people, so it's nice to keep something the same."

She stops, looking down, another trap of sadness taking over. "It's been a while."

Right when she finishes, we are at the door. The frown leaves her face, but a cloud of gray still wraps around her. We walk in and order two vanilla cones, and when we get them, we go outside where there are benches. It's nice to have a night that is so relaxing. I can't remember the last time I've felt this calm.

"So," I start, "have you put any thought about the mural?"

"Umm, considering I found out about it a few hours ago, I am going to say no. But I'm sure I will come up with something."

"That's understandable, and I agree, you will do something amazing."

"I didn't say amazing," she says quietly, unsure.

"I know. I did." I say matter-of-factly and she looks me dead in the eye for only a second, then she hides away as a small blush creeps up on her face. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a big gush of wind randomly blows by, and it sends the napkins on her lap flying. She runs to grab them, and as she does, a long chain flies out from under her shirt.

"Sorry about that, I don't believe in littering and-"

"What's that?" I ask, pointing to her necklace. She looks down and nearly drops her ice cream trying to tuck it back under her shirt. She looks upset, and I see her eyes begin to water.

"I'm sorry, are you okay? Tris?" She brings a hand to her face, shielding herself away. "Tris, I'm sorry if you didn't want me to see that. Please talk to me." I kind of beg the last part.

Her eyes get lost in a battle behind her eyes. Thoughts can be shadows of the feelings deep inside us. Always darker, emptier. Simpler. She takes a deep breath to collect herself.

"Sorry," she mutters. "I'm not usually like this. I tend to keep to myself." She pulls her necklace and grasps the ring that hangs from the end. "This was my mom's. She died when I was younger... I don't like talking about it."

I can see the pain in her eyes—I see devils from the past stalking her, a familiar sensation. It feels like a personal slap in the face. So I do something that I have never done. I take off the leather bracelet on my wrist and flip it over. On it says, 'Find your strength.' On both sides is a tied ribbon.

"I don't tell others this, but my mom died of breast cancer when I was pretty young. One of her lasts gifts to me was this bracelet."

Oh my gosh, is all she says.

There is a long pause before she speaks up again. I know that she has something hidden deep inside herself that fights every day to get the better of her. But we are all in this game together. Some people are on different levels, a few higher, tougher, and some are low enough to not understand the atrocity of silenced pain. But the few unfortunate people who know the burn of hell are not always on the same levels.

"How do you deal with it?"

"Honestly, some days are better than others. But one day I woke up and I was willing to move on, for her. She wouldn't have wanted me to live my life with regrets," I tell her. "I still struggle with that last part."

She stays silent, and I can't quite read what she's thinking. "You know, this may sound stupid, but talking helps. But it has to be the right people."

"Are there many right people?" She asks, but in a sarcastic way as if she knows the answer is no.
"What makes someone right?"

"I think you have an idea. Who would you trust with something personal?"

"I seem to trust you." I smile. "Which is saying a lot. It isn't easy for me to trust anyone."

"Why's that?"

"Why do people not live on the sun? Because they know that they will burn. Some things you don't forget."

"Like a mother."

She sighs. "Especially my mother. She had a way of making the world make sense. She was the kind of person that woke up every day the way the sun rose. Persistent. Enlightening. Burning. We were always closer. Closer to each other than I was to my dad."

Everything inside me halts as if the earth has stopped spinning. I stare at her.

Is that it? Are we the same? I ask in my mind.

Could that be what pulls at her? A part of me clings to the idea that maybe we share the same devils and the same hell. But she doesn't speak of her father with the same venom that I think of with mine. There is a hate there, but not the same way.

"Why don't we make our way back?" She suggests.

I don't want to, but considering we both finished our desserts a while ago, I allow myself to stand up and make a ways back. I live just down the road from Tori, so I decide to walk her home. We talk about casual things, and there are moments of comfortable silence. Before I know it, we are in front of her house. She waves goodbye, and disappears into her house in a blink of an eye, leaving me wonderstruck.

I can't believe I did that, but I don't regret it.

I really do like being with her, even though today has been the first time we've ever spoken. It felt so natural and right. I know I'll be pushing too hard to ask to hang out this weekend, she has some issues that will take some time to get through. I am willing, though, to help her with that. We can help each other, I'm sure. And as I walk into my house, for the first time, I want Monday morning to be here.


Author's Note

Hope you all enjoyed this! I love hearing your thoughts! Especially because I am tweaking, let me know what you want to see. Please review!

Be brave, everyone!